Archie' and Other 13 Stories
by Cade Welentine
Summary: Just a collection of 13 one-shots and drabbles, mostly about Archie and Patrice.
1. Archie

'Archie'

**Author's Note: Just a little one-shot idea I had. I may turn this into a sort of mini series of one shots about Patrice and Archie's friendship through the years, mostly before Evan. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy. It might get a little sad. Happy reading!**

**-Cade**

Patrice Miller and Archie Walker were best friends. They were almost the same on every level. They were the same age. They were in the same kindergarten class. They even lived on the same street. They did everything together. They were like q and u, you rarely saw one without the other.

Archie adored Patrice. He would go along with everyone of her ideas for a game. He played house with her, being everything and anything she didn't want to be. He read the picture books she said were good and ignored the ones she said were bad. He didn't eat Cheetos because she didn't like them.

Archie also liked another little girl in their class, her name was Kendra. He didn't follow Kendra around and play with her like he did with Patrice because Kendra had mean friend, Lucy. Lucy told Kendra that she shouldn't play with Archie and Kendra listened to her.

Patrice liked Archie. She liked him a lot. He played the games she wanted to play. He did the things she wanted to do. He colored the pictures she told him to. He got her the toys she wanted when she asked for them. He was what every little girl wanted, a personal servant.

Patrice often noticed odd little things about her friend. She noticed that he didn't run quite as fast as the other boys in the class. He walked a little weird. He couldn't jump as well as everyone else. And he fell, a lot. More than any other little kid, even the boys playing kickball. Other than that, Archie was like all the other little kids.

One day, after Archie had fallen, he got up and said something different than he usually did. Normally, he said he was fine, or that he had meant to do that. But that day he said that his legs felt funny.

"What kind of funny?" Patrice asked.

"I don't know. They just feel funny," Archie told her. He told his mother the same thing when he told her the story at dinner.

"Do they hurt?" his mother asked. Archie nodded. It wasn't a hurt as if he had cut himself but more of an ache, a strange ache that he had never felt before.

His mother took him to the doctor the next day. Then he had to go to the hospital for tests. It wasn't very fun, but his mom took him to McDonalds after, so it made it okay. There was something about french fries and McNuggets that made everything better.

Patrice came to visit him after she got out of school that day.

"Where were you?" she demanded. "I had to play house all by myself, and Kendra and Lucy wouldn't let me use any of the baby dolls,"

"I had to go to the doctor's," Archie said.

"Did you hafta get a shot?" she wondered. Archie nodded. Patrice's eyes widened and her mouth formed an O. She hugged him tight, letting him know that everything was okay. He hugged her back.

* * *

><p>The next day, the doctor called Archie's mother. They had to go back, there was something important to discuss.<p>

Archie whined. He moaned and groaned. He kicked and fought. He didn't want to go back to the doctor's office. It wasn't any fun there. The lady at the reception desk didn't even let him play with the toys.

The nurse led Archie and his mom into a small office. There was brown desk with a rolly chair behind it. Two plastic chairs sat in front, facing the desk. The walls were an ugly, faded beige and the frosted glass window had no shade.

The doctor sitting at the desk was a balding man with big, thick rimmed glasses. Archie found him scary and mean-looking.

"Mrs. Walker, please, have a seat. You too, Archibald," the doctor said.

"I'm Archie," Archie said. "Not Archibald,"

"Oh, then have a seat Archie," the doctor corrected himself. Archie smiled and climbed into one of the plastic chairs. His mother sat in the other one.

"Mrs. Walker, I'm afraid that you son has Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy,"

"What does that mean?" his mother asked.

"It's a type of muscular disordered where the body doesn't produce dystrophin, causing loss of movement in the skeletal muscles and eventually the cardiac muscle."

"Is it fatal?" she wondered. The doctor looked at Archie, then at his mother.

"Your son probably won't live to be thirty," the doctor admitted. Archie's mother started crying. Archie didn't see what the big deal was. Thirty was forever away, he was only five. Why was his mom crying?

"It's okay, Mommy," he said.

"Is, is there a cure?" his mother wondered. The doctor shook his head.

"There are things we can do to slow it down, but we can't cure it."

This only made Archie's mother cry harder. She couldn't believe that her sweet little boy was going to die before her. She couldn't believe that he was sick.

* * *

><p>That night, Archie's mother sat him down.<p>

"We've got to talk, Archie," she said.

"About what?" Archie wondered. "Spiderman?"

"No, about what the doctor said today,"

"I didn't like him. What he said made you cry,"

"I know, but he's a nice man, Archie, he's going to help you get better,"

"Am I sick?"

"Yes, baby,"

"Do I have to take medicine?"

"I don't know,"

"I don't feel sick,"

"I know you don't. It's not like when you throw up. This will last for a long time, it's not going to go away. The doctors will try to make you feel better, but they can't make it go away,"

"But I thought that medicine made everything go away. Won't the doctors give me medicine?"

"They'll give you medicine, but it won't go away,"

"Am I gonna die?" Archie's mother was a little taken back at this question.

"Everyone dies, Archie, you know that,"

"But will I die soon?"

"Not soon, but sooner than most people,"

Archie hugged his mom tightly. He was kind of confused and scared. He knew that he didn't feel sick. He felt the same as always, sure his legs were a little sore, but other than that he felt like he did everyday.

His mother let go of him and kissed the top of his head. He smiled at her before running off to go play. She stared after him, feeling more worried than she ever had.

* * *

><p>"Where were you yesterday?" Patrice asked the next day at school. "I had to eat lunch all alone,"<p>

"I had to go to the doctor's again," Archie said.

"Again?" Patrice wondered. Archie nodded.

"Are you sick or something?" Patrice asked. Archie nodded.

"With what? A cold? A fever? The flu?" Patrice rattled off the different illnesses she could think of. "The chicken pox? Head lice?"

"No, I don't know what it's called. Dushpen muscle dust, I think?" Archie guessed.

"That's kind of weird." Patrice said. "Will you be the dog now?" Archie sighed and lowered himself onto all fours. He barked like a dog and Patrice pat his head.

Archie may be sick, but he was still the best friend a little girl could ask for.


	2. Security Heart

'Security Heart'

**Author's Note: Okay, so anyone who's read my first 13 story, **_**How Do You Choose?**_**, will recognize the title of this one. This is what I think went down (Do people still say that?) when Patrice got hers. Enjoy!**

**-Cade**

Patrice stared at her best friend. He was lying in a hospital bed, asleep. He was so still that she wouldn't have known he was alive if it weren't for the steady beeping of his heart monitor. She honestly thought that he looked dead. He was pale and unmoving.

Gently, she touched his arm. He didn't stir.

"Come on, Archie, please wake up," Patrice whispered to him. His nose twitched, and Patrice felt a wave of happiness wash over her. A twitch was a good sign, right? It would mean that he'd wake up soon.

Archie's eyes fluttered open and Patrice smiled down at him. He blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting to the bright fluorescent lighting. He could smell the anteseptic that surrounded him. He could hear the steady beep of the heart monitor. He saw Patrice smiling down at him. He smiled up at her.

"Hey, Arch, how are you feeling?" Patrice wondered. Archie opened his mouth, then closed it. His mouth and throat were dry.

"Oh, hang on," Patrice told him. She rummaged through the pile of stuff on the table beside his bed. She knocked a teddy bear to floor. A few get well cards clattered to the ground. Where was the water bottle that was there before?

"Ugh!" Patrice moaned. Archie rolled his eyes.

"Here it is!" she exclaimed, pulling a little Poland Springs bottle out of a drawer. She unscrewed the cap and handed it to Archie, making sure he had a fairly firm grip on it. He slowly lifted it to his lips, careful not to spill any.

"Thanks," he croaked.

"You're welcome," Patrice said, shrugging. She rocked back and forth on her heels, trying not to let the awkward in the room get to her.

"Are you okay?" Archie wondered.

"Yes," Patrice lied.

"What's the matter?" Archie asked her, patting the bed, motioning for her to sit down. Patrice sighed and lowered herself onto the end of the bed. She wasn't sure if she should tell him. He'd know if she was lying.

"I was scared, Archie," she admitted. Archie furrowed his eyebrows, confused.

"Scared of what?" he asked.

"I was scared that you wouldn't wake up." Patrice told him.

"That's stupid, Patrice," he said. "I'm pretty much always gonna wake up, unless I stay up 'til four watching Spiderman,"

"I know, but sometimes, I just get scared. I don't know why, I just do,"

Archie pulled an electric blue napkin off of the table next to him. Carefully and quickly, he folded into the shape of a heart.

"Here," he said, handing it to Patrice.

"What's this?" she asked, laughing slightly.

"A security heart," Archie said simply.

"A what?"

"A security heart. Just hold it whenever you get scared about my MD. My mom has one,"

"Thanks," Patrice said, sliding it in her pocket. She looked at the clock on the wall.

"I've gotta go," she said. "I'll see you later," She kissed him on the top of the head before walking out, clutching the heart in her pocket the entire time.


	3. When Everything Falls Apart

When Everything Falls Apart

**Author's Note: Hey y'all, I'm home sick from school today. Don't worry, it's not terminal. I'm (un)fortunately not going to be like Archie, not today anyway. So I just kind of thought of this while watching Modern Family (you can tell where this is going be heading...), I think it's kind of sweet, but I'm not sure. Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy!**

**-Cade**

I'm not sure when it happened. I'm not sure how it happened, either. I suppose I should start from the beginning. Not the very beginning, obviously, but maybe he beginning of that week, the week I think it happened.

It started out like most other normal weeks. I went to school with Patrice, I had a doctor's appointment, I pet my cat. I did everything like it was normal. I'm not sure what went wrong, but something did.

I guess I should've seen it coming. I mean, it was just a matter of time, honestly. I don't think I did anything wrong, but I still got punished.

You know, when it comes right down to it, I think it's all because of Lucy. She's a bitch, but she helped me without even knowing it. If she had, I doubt she would've done what she did.

Now, I'm even confusing myself. Let's start over:

It started out like most other normal weeks. I went to school with Patrice, I had a doctor's appointment, I pet my cat. Everything was normal. Things really went wrong that Thursday.

Patrice and I were walking (okay, I was hobbling, but, whatever,) down the hallway, laughing and talking, just like always. Brett and his friends were running and playing with a football. They knocked into to Patrice and then things went into slow-mo.

Patrice tumbled into me. I swore, expecting to fall onto my butt in front of everyone. Oddly, that didn't happen, instead I fell onto someone else.

"Sorry, Patrice," Brett called, running off.

"Jesus, Crip-toid, get off me," said the person I landed on. Patrice pulled me up, handing me my crutches. I turn to face the person I had just crushed.

"Hey, I'm sorry," I said, not realizing who it was at first.

"God, you freak, who does that?" Lucy screeched at me. She had her fists balled.

"I said I was sorry," I whispered.

"Why am I wasting my time on you?" she wondered. "You're just going to die anyway," Under her breath she added, "And that'll be a happy day," She thought I couldn't hear, but I could.

I felt sick to my stomach all of a sudden. I hobbled down the hall, not sure where I was planning on going. In the movies, the girl always goes to the girls' room to cry, but something tells me that crying in the boys' bathroom would probably and up giving me a voucher for a wedgie.

I decided to go the swingset on the playground outside. No one ever uses it, so I knew I'd be alone. I hadn't exactly worked out how I was going to get on the swing yet but I'd cross that bridge when I came to it.

I hobbled through the woodchips that littered the ground around the playstructures. It was hardered to manuver myself through these on crutches. I missed my kindergarten days when I could innocently run through the playground without a care in the world. Fifth grade wasn't anything like kindergarten. People were meaner, they made fun of you, they stole your crutches, everything falls apart.

I pushed myself up onto a swing, a somewhat dangerous task for me. If I fell, who would come help me? I mean, Patrice would find me eventually, but until then I'd be sitting on woodchips.

Thunder clapped over me. A few raindrops plopped down, landing on my head. I didn't care. I swung slowly back and forth, Lucy's words ringing in my ears. _You're just going to die anyway, and that'll be a happy day._

That's when the tears start to fall. Slowly at first, like the rain, then they morph into full fledged sobs. I haven't cried like this since the day I realized that I was going to die young. I don't know why this is bothering me so much, I already know that I"m going to die, and I had figured it would make Lucy happy, maybe it's just hearing it out loud from someone else makes it...more real, somehow. The rain is pouring down now.

"Archie?" Patrice called out. I didn't respond.

"Archie, answer me! Tell me where you are, you're scaring me!" she screamed. I just sit and swing and cry.

"Oh my God, Archie, what are you doing out here!" Patrice asked, running towards me.

"Trying to slowly kill myself," I mutter. She hoists herself up onto the swing next to me.

"Do you want to tell me what's wrong?" Patrice asks me, just like she's my mother.

"I think you know, you were there,"

"Oh, right. You aren't taking that seriously, are you, Arch?"

"I don't know,"

"Do you want my opinon?"

"You're going to give it to me anyway, whether I want it or not,"

"I think that the real Archie doesn't give a crap about what Lucy has to say, and he shouldn't. I don't. I think that you just want it to get to you, you want something to be upset about it because you think you should be angrier about things, but you aren't. You're going to live your life to the fullest, happy and Kendra obsessed."

I stifle a giggle.

"You're probably right," I say.

"C'mon, let's get you home before we both catch pneumonia," Patrice says, helping me off my swing. She hands me my crutches, and we rush off, away from the school. She catches me everytime I fall, and I think she always will.


	4. Tornadoes

Tornadoes

**Author's Note: Still home, still watching Modern Family. I guess the only thing I can do is write, and write, and write. I'll admit, this isn't my best story ever, but I kind of like how it describes Archie learning things about Patrice. So, I hope y'all enjoy.**

**-Cade**

The rain patters down and the gray sky casts an ominous shadow over the small town where our story begins. In a small white-sided house sit a boy and girl by the fireplace. The girl stands and trudges to the window.

"What are you doing, Patrice?" asks the boy.

"I'm looking to see if any of the other houses have power," Patrice tells him.

"I doubt it," he says. He pushes his crutches a little further away from the fire.

"Archie, why are you so negative all the time?" Patrice asks.

"I think it's the hospitals," Archie explains. Patrice nods, thinking that it's a good theory. It made sense, Archie had spent at least half of his life in hospitals, they probably changed people all the time.

Patrice walked back to her friend and sat next to him. She warmed her hands quickly at the fire before turning back the the board game they were playing.

"Now, where were we?" Patrice wondered.

"I believe that I was winning," Archie said.

"How is it you're always winning?" Patrice asked.

"Because I make up the games and I alter the rules so that I can win," Archie admitted.

"So you admit it!" Patrice exclaimed. Archie rolled his eyes, moving a game piece to knock his friend's over.

"And I win again," he said simply. Patrice growled under her breath. Sometimes she couldn't stand her best friend but he was hers and she was his.

The lights flicked on once and then off again. The two kids groaned. Thunder clapped and lightning flashed. The tornado warning sirens started.

"Seriously," Patrice whined, helping Archie stand up. The two rushed toward the basement door. Archie hesitated when he reached the top of the stair. Patrice could hear the wind whip around the house.

"Archie, if you do not move right now, I will push you down the steps," she threatened. Archie gulped. He tried to hobble down the stairs, stumbling a few times. Patrice caught him.

"You get the windows, I'll make a mattress fort," Patrice told him. Archie nodded and put pillows against the three basement windows. Patrice stacked mattresses into the shape of a box, making a shelter in case the windows broke. She plopped into it and motioned for Archie, who limped towards her.

They huddled under the mattress shelter, holding each other tight. The wind whipped around outside, branches hit windows and cracked windshields. One of the basement windows popped. Patrice screamed, squeezing Archie tighter.

"You're suffocating me," Archie wheezed. Patrice loosened her grip a little bit, giving him a look that said 'sorry, man,'. He nodded, letting her know it was okay. He rubbed his side, slightly sore from the squeeze.

The wind slowed down a bit. The sirens stopped and things outside quieted down. Archie pushed the top mattress off the top and attempted to climb out. Patrice climbed out with much more ease and started pulling the pillows away from the windows. Little bits of sunlight streamed in. Archie smiled. Tornadoes aren't so bad, they just break a few windows, scare a few people and then its over.

Archie realized something: Patrice was like a tornado. She seemed scary at first, but once she was finished, she wasn't so bad. She was kind of scary at first but she'd run her course and be done. She just left a little damage, it wasn't any big deal if you had a warning.


	5. Smiles, Laughter and Hospital Beds

Smiles, Laughter and Hospital Beds

**Author's Note: I'm not really sure how many stories I'm going to put into this collection. I've already started the ending story but I don't know when I'll put it in. If you haven't noticed, I've tried to put them into a sort of chronological order. The first one takes place when Archie and Patrice are in kindergarten, the second is in fourth grade, the third in fifth grade and the fourth is also in fifth (although it could be anytime, really). This one is roughly in sixth grade. Sorry that it's so short. Anyway, Enjoy!**

**-Cade**

I stare at Archie, he's watching an old Star Trek episode. He rubs his eye, wiping away an eyelash, I assume. He winces as the IV moves slightly in his hand. He mutters something to himself but I can't make it out.

I cross and uncross my legs. I always feel so uncomfortable sitting at the end of his hospital bed. I'm not sure why, he always tells me that his hospital room is my hospital room, something I assume sounds really nice in his head but just sounds kind of creepy out loud. I understand what he means, though. He just wants me to be comfortable around him in the hospital. He doesn't want me to turn into Nurse Patrice, rushing around and doing everything for him. He knows I wouldn't do that if he were at home, and he doesn't want me to do it here. He likes everything to be as normal as possible, nothing too weird or hospital-y.

I stand up and sit back down, and I think that that's what gives me away.

"Patrice, relax. I told you, you don't have to do anything different just because I'm in the hospital. You can be regular, old Patrice. Remember, my hospital room is your hospital room," Archie says.

"You do realize how creepy that sounds, right?" I ask him. He laughs and nods at the same time, making it look like he's laughing much harder than he actually is.

"I was wondering when you were going to point that out," he admits. "It's amazing how many things you observe and point out, but ignore the obvious."

"I thought it was one of those things that sounded really good to you and I didn't want to tell you how weird it actually is," I inform him, laughing too. Sometimes the laughing takes the edge off of being in a hospital room. Well, that's until you remember that you're laughing in a hospital room. Sometimes that makes you laugh even harder and other times it make you get really quiet and depressed. This was one of the times it makes you laugh even harder.

"You know, there's something almost magical and romantic about hospital rooms," Archie says.

"What do you mean?" I ask chuckling slightly.

"Well, they're perfect for all sorts of musical numbers. I mean, the rolling food carts and the bendy beds and the crappy TVs and all. We could write 'Hospital: the Musical'," he explains. I swap him on the leg, letting him know that this is probably his stupidest idea yet.

"You know I really can't feel that," he tells me.

"I know, that's why I do it extra hard, so that you can feel it," I say, swapping him again. He swaps me back and I jump up, giggling. Any moment, some nurse is going to come in here and yell at us, but for now we're just laughing and giggling and smiling and nothing feels better.

"Hey, Patrice, I have something really important to tell you," Archie says, a look of serious realization on his face. He motions for me to some closer. I step forward, so that I'm about an arms' length away from him. He signals to come closer. I'm a hand's length away, now.

"A litte closer," he orders. Our noses are touching. Archie sticks his tongue out, licking me. I squeal and jump back.

"You jerk!" I yell, wiping the spit off my face. "That's disgusting,"

"Grow up," Archie tells me. "It's not like you're going to catch a disease or anything."

"How do you know I won't catch 'Archie'? I might turn into you," I protest.

"And why would being incredibly amazing and good-looking be a horrible thing?"

"Because, aside from the fact I already am those two things, I'd be _you_,"

"Oh, and I'm the jerk," he looks away from me, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Aw, Arch, I didn't mean it like that," I say, stepping closer to him. Archie smirks, trying to stifle a laugh.

"I got you!" he exclaims. He starts laughing again.

If you held a gun to my head and told me to pick my favorite thing about Archie, I'd probably pick his laugh and smile. He doesn't waste them on just anything, but when he does it's beautiful. He laughs loud and long. It's not at all fake. He leans forward and nods a lot. And his smile is big and usually toothy. When he smiles at you, you feel like you're the most important person in the world, just for that brief moment, you feel as though Archie actually, truly, deeply cares about you.


	6. The Beginning of the End

The Beginning of the End

**Author's Note: I will never be able to tell you where this came from. I just sort of came up with it one day. I think it's a nice way to end this collection of Archie and Patrice friendship stories because it's kind of the time that their friendship changed. I don't really think that once Evan showed up, their friendship was the same as it had been. I know that they'll always be best friends and nothing can change that, but I honestly believe that something in their dynamic changed because of Evan. Maybe Archie got jealous, maybe Patrice has trouble dividing her time between them, but something changed. Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy. Thanks for reading!**

**-Cade**

Endings are painful. No one enjoys them, well, except for the ends of really suckish movies. Those endings are nice and often looked forward to. It's hard to tell when endings are coming. They sort of just show up. If you're lucky, you get some sort of warning, some sort of beginning, almost.

I probably noticed it the first day He showed up. Well, the first day I saw Him. I think He had been in town for about a week at that point. I didn't know He existed until that week. I mean, I heard that He was coming, but I didn't really register it until I saw Him.

I probably should've seen it coming, the way Patrice talked about Him after it happened. She was all loveydovey and excited sounding. I couldn't believe it, she'd never talked about anyone that way. It was the way I talked about Kendra. And it was making me sick. I'll admit it, I was a little jealous. I got used to being Patrice's only friend and He ruined it.

I was sitting on my porch, sort of sunbathing. Only my toes were sunbathing, and that's mostly because I didn't feel like putting in all the effort to move them. I held a Spiderman comic in my hand, sort of reading it. I had already read it but I was out of things to read.

I flipped a page, then realized the comic would be much more affective as a fan than as an actual comic book. It was hot and sticky and I wished that it weren't the end of July. I wanted to get up, but I was sort of afraid to touch my crutches. I had stupidly laid the handles in the sunny spot on the porch. Touching them would be a surefire way to get burned. I hoped that Patrice would show up soon and she could lay them the other way to cool, or at least go and get me an Ove-Glove.

The breeze blew through my porch, barely grazing my face. I smile, it's a short relief from the heat. I sigh and reopen my comic book, not really sure what to do. I feel like Patrice is late.

"Yodel, wait!" I heard a boy yell. I don't know who would yell at a yodel to wait, but I'm not one to judge. I used to have conversations with my Yoda statuettes everynight before I went bed.

I could hear the distinct, distracted humming of Patrice coming from the opposite side of the boy's voice. She was reading, I knew it already. It didn't matter how many things she tripped over or cars she almost got hit by, she always read while she walked.

A dog barked on the boy's side and I could hear running footsteps.

"Yodel! Come here, boy!" called the boy again. I sat up, interested.

I think I saw it before it happened. The dog came into view, a boy my age chasing it. On the other end of the sidewalk, was Patrice, strolling and reading. They were on a straight, head-on collision course towards each other. My hands flew to my eyes.

The dog bypassed Patrice, but the boy didn't. They smacked into each other. Patrice's book hit the ground with a sickening _CRACK!_

"God, I'm sorry. That's my aunt's dog and it's kind of..." the boy trailed off.

"It's cool," Patrice said. This really intrigued me. I knew it wasn't 'cool' with Patrice, it was far from 'cool'. In fact, if it had been anyone else, she probably would've ripped them to shreds.

"I'm Evan Goldman," the boy said, suddenly not in any hurry to catch his aunt's dog.

"I'm Patrice Miller," Patrice said. They stood up and looked each other in the eyes. That's when it happened. That's when Patrice got it, the same feeling I get with Kendra, for the first time.

That was the beginning of the end of our friendship the way I knew it. After the part you all know by heart, there was a third person. It was suddenly booths for three. Three seats next to each other in the movie theatre. I had two friends cheering me on when I was in the hospital. And it was all really weird.


End file.
